


Happy Trails To You ('Til We Meet Again)

by tardisy



Series: Endings [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Happy Ending, M/M, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-19
Updated: 2014-02-19
Packaged: 2018-01-13 01:37:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1208008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tardisy/pseuds/tardisy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>There are many endings. This is one.</i>
</p><p>"So this is it, huh?"</p><p>"Don't say it like '<i>Nice knowin' you, goodbye forever</i>,' you doofus."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happy Trails To You ('Til We Meet Again)

**Author's Note:**

> Also posted at [Tumblr](http://tardisy.tumblr.com/post/77164794686/happy-trails-to-you-til-we-meet-again-post-series)!.

 

"So this is it, huh?"  
  
"Don't say it like ' _Nice knowin' you, goodbye forever_ ,' you doofus."  
  
"Isn't it?" Dean asked, joking, but his eyes were cast toward the dust he kicked up as he shuffled his feet, his shoulders hunched and hands stuffed in the pockets of his worn jeans.  
  
Sam sighed, exasperated. "Dean, we talked about this, we agreed -- "  
  
"No, it's. I know." It was that tone of voice he used when he was trying too hard to convince everyone else he wasn't two steps away from either breaking down or breaking down a door. "It's fine. Really."  
  
The pair was silent for a few moments, Dean's gaze fixed on the ground, Sam's fixed on his brother. Sam leaned back against the trunk of his car, and the warmth that seeped into his palms helped to calm him. He couldn't help but run his fingers over the smooth curve of a tail-light. After all of these years: his first car (the one he had while _sans_ soul didn't count, according to Dean, and Sam had to agree), and everything it represented.  
  
He exhaled softly, easing into the broken silence, and replied with a gentle reprimand of, "You don't sound fine."  
  
Dean stilled and squeezed his eyes shut, briefly, before straightening up and meeting Sam's gaze. "This is just weird. And I don't like goodbyes. You know that."  
  
Sam shook his head, an air of melancholy wafting faintly between them. "You think I do?" Dean huffed lightly, mouth turning up at one corner as he looked away again.  
  
"I love you, Dean."  
  
Dean whipped around too quickly, and Sam had to laugh as he winced. His face was scrunched up in an approximation of thirteen-year-old Dean discovering why black-lights should not be tinkered with in motel rooms. "Jesus Christ, Sam, c'mon!"  
  
Sam was still laughing, almost doubled-over, a combination of Dean's reaction and the release that came from saying those words to his older brother. "I do, though!"  
  
Dean watched him warily, but the tension in his shoulders eased and a wry grin crept across his face. "Yeah, yeah." He shoved at Sam as he wiped tears from his eyes. "You know, I'm pretty sure you don't say that shit and then hack out a lung laughing about it after."  
  
"Sorry," Sam gasped. He shook himself out, and nodded his head briskly,  _Serious-Sam Mode activate_ , but couldn't tamp down his smile as he cleared his throat. "Sorry."

Dean seemed to stop and consider for a moment before he lightly muttered, "Bitch."

"Jerk." The playful call-and-response with tinged with nostalgia, with an impending parting, but they grinned at one another just the same. After a beat, they reached for each other simultaneously, as in-sync as they had ever been.

"So do I, Sammy. So do I," Dean murmured into the mop of Sam's hair. Sam squeezed him tighter in response, and brushed a hand over his bristled cheek when they pulled apart. For the first time since Sam moved his gear from trunk of the Impala to his own car, the silence that fell between them felt awkward.

"This isn't forever," Sam repeated. “We’ll meet up soon.” And then, to reassure him, "I'll always need you, Dean. You're my big brother."

"But we can _Mary Tyler Moore_ it, yeah, I know." Dean's voice was steady, the set of his jaw resolute. "This is all good, Sam. It is. Don't mean I can't be a little sad about it."

Sam nodded. Then, to break the somber mood, "I know someone else who'll always need you too, you know." Dean cocked his head curiously before following Sam's pointed stare at Castiel, sitting on a bench out of hearing-distance, waiting patiently for them to say goodbye, having already had his time with Sam. Dean shifted on his feet, a faint blush creeping up his neck as his brother regarded him knowingly.

"Got room in the front seat, now."

"Uh, yeah," Dean coughed. "And you'd, uh, be okay with that?"

"Dude, I've _been_ more than okay with that. It's Cas, he's family. Besides," Sam shrugged, "it's your choice." They looked toward Castiel once more before turning back to each other, knocking shoulders.

"Yeah..." Dean trailed off, catching a glimpse at his watch. "Shit. It's getting late."

Sam looked at his own to confirm, out of habit. "Yeah, we should all get going." They shuffled around each other clumsily, not knowing what to do, before Dean swore under his breath and reached for him again, gripping Sam's neck tightly with one hand.

"You be careful, you hear me?" Dean rasped. "You give me a heads-up when you figure out a home-base, and you fucking _call me_ if you need anything, do you understand?" Sam nodded in Dean's hold, chest suddenly tight. As they pulled apart, Dean added, "And you let me know when you crash for the night."

"You, too. Or, whatever, whoever stops first --"

"Yeah." They sniffled, trying and failing to be discreet. Then, inexplicably, Dean laughed.

"And for fuck's sake, Sammy, try to keep strays out of that backseat for as long as you can."

Sam snorted, and gestured widely at Dean, at Castiel, at himself, at the memories of those who found a place in their ragtag family. "I don't know, man. We've had okay luck with 'em so far."

Dean gentled, dipping his head in consideration. "Yeah, I suppose we have, haven't we?"

They looked at one another for several moments, and Sam smiled. "'Till next time?"

Dean nodded.

"'Till next time."

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

Castiel only flinched slightly when Dean dropped onto the bench next to him.

"How's the ribs, there, buddy?"

Cas prodded at his sides gently. "Still sore."

"They're gonna be." He reached out to run a finger lightly over the bruise darkening Castiel's cheekbone before he turned away, resting his elbows upon his knees. "That shiner's looking better though."

"It is becoming a rather pleasant shade of green."

Dean chuckled softly. "Consider it a lesson in 'I'm Human And That Means I Can't Take On A Nest Of Vamps Solo.'"

Ignoring the teasing dig, Castiel asked, "Sam is on his way then?"

"Yup."

"And what do you think about that?"

At first, there was no response as Dean seemed to genuinely consider his question. Then, as Castiel watched him carefully, his face softened, relief and newfound optimism smoothing his edges. "I think it's good," he replied, sounding faintly suprised. "It _is_ good. We're good." He turned to Cas, his face open and honest as he crooked an arm over the back of the bench. "It’s the best it’s been in a long time. Things are winding down, we're all alive, and safe. We're doing what makes us happy." And tentatively, quietly, as though he was still adjusting to the idea, "We _all_ deserve that."

Castiel didn't respond, except for the proud twist of his mouth, and the soft set of his eyes.

Dean cleared his throat roughly, "Anyway. How about you?"

"I," he started, then paused, thinking. "I'm not sure. There are so many possibilities, choices and decisions, now."

"Well, you know I'll take you to wherever you wanna go."

"Hmm," Cas agreed.

"And do you... know. Where you want to go?" Dean twitched, unsettled, and Cas could hear a curious anxiety threaded through his words.

"I would like to go to the Bunker and collect some of my things." He stood, pushing himself up with a groan, but didn't miss Dean’s unintentional, disappointed exhalation.

"Yeah, Cas, whatever you want." It was difficult to look at the way Dean schooled his features, feigning nonchalance. "What're you gonna do after that?"

"I want to see everything." Despite the painful twinge in his ribs, he huffed happily. "I want to try everything. I can do it, now. I have had so many chances, and I am going to do this one properly."

Dean smiled, soft and sincere. "You deserve it, Cas."

Castiel looked down upon his upturned face, the setting sun casting his features in shadow, and in light. "Perhaps." He set his hands against Dean's shoulders to support himself as he leaned down to murmur, "And so do you." He pushed away, looking toward the horizon, where Sam was disappearing into the watercolor sky. Cas could feel his chest swell with pride, with love, for them both.

"Got an idea where you're gonna start, after the Bunker?"

"Not really." His mouth quirked in a sly smile. "I'm not the one with the keys."

He turned away and limped toward the Impala, leaving Dean sputtering in confusion on the bench. Dean reached his side as he was sliding gingerly into the passenger seat. "What in the hell does that mean?"

Squinting up at him, he replied, "It means what it always means. There are miles of open road, and you're driving, Dean." The seatbelt clicked into place. "We can switch off, but you may pick our first destination. And I will control the music for the first leg of our journey."

Dean grinned, and it suddenly seemed so bright in the shade of the approaching night. "I don't know about that, man. I don't think I can stand endless miles of Little Biggie Weezyonce."

"Dean," Cas said, suddenly serious, "I believe you need to 'get with it,' as they say."

Barking a laugh, Dean pushed the door shut with a  _bang_ , and then looked over his shoulder at the setting sun. His brother was out there, after all of his hard-won battles, carving his own path, the one he never truly had a chance at before this moment, and had yearned for so desperately and for so long. His best friend, here at his side, battered but smiling, rejoicing in the freedom, and choice, and humanity for which he had fought, and sacrificed, and bled, like no one Dean had ever known.

And as for him.

After everything he had done, all the good and the bad, the pain and the struggle, the sleepless nights and empty bottles, he had his family. They were with him, whether they occupied the same space or not, their lives irrevocably intertwined, they were safe and happy, and they loved him despite it all, maybe even because of it all. And he loved, _loved_ , them.

He rounded the front of the Impala, dragging a loving hand over its dark, smooth curves, the dust from their travels collecting on his palm and fingertips.

For him, there was family, love, and the open road. There was hope.

It was more than enough.

It was everything.

The worn leather of the driver's seat creaked as he sunk into it, and with the turn of the key the engine that he built, and re-built, rumbled into life. He looked to Cas, whose face was turned toward the window, toward Sam, toward the fading sun, and smiled. Rolling down his window, Dean flicked the volume knob of the radio, and then eased his Baby out of its idle.

And he drove.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Also posted at [Tumblr](http://tardisy.tumblr.com/post/77164794686/happy-trails-to-you-til-we-meet-again-post-series)!
> 
> [Happy Trails](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XcYsO890YJY)!
> 
> I do believe this is the most hopeful story I've ever written for Supernatural. Get the salt.


End file.
